Rainy Day Schedule by Tim Ramsey The peaceful sound of raindrops tapping upon my bedroom window awoke me for but a moment at 2:08 a.m. last Friday morning. The gentle sprinkling became a downpour and then slowed to a consistent, yet calmer, waterfall that enveloped my house. Gently, I was lulled back to sleep by the constant, rhythmic beat. The alarm blasted three hours later. The rain was still playing its symphony outside, and I remained under the warm blankets to enjoy the music. Moments late my wife nudged me and said, Come on. Youve got to get up. Its a school day! School? I shrieked. Its raining out there! No! Perhaps the most dreaded announcement in a teachers day - besides theres a faculty meeting this afternoon - is the calling for rainy day schedule. Those three words can cast a dark cloud upon any teachers heart, darker and more intense than any other comment uttered. Even Teacher, I think Im going to throw up, doesnt evoke nearly as much panic or despair. The typical school day lasts seven hours. A teacher is in a classroom the size of an average living room with 30-plus pre-adolescents for most of that time. There are thirty minutes of alone-time when the kids go to specials (actually 20, after walking them to their destination and then walking back to your room). Theres another reprieve for lunch - about 40 minutes - but, again, you have to get the kids in the cafeteria and then wait for them to get through the line so that they dont terrorize each other or the food servers. (Subtract about 10 more minutes). When the rain falls, you spend all seven hours in the living room. I have learned that human behavior, especially that of children, is closely aligned with water. Start a lesson, someone needs to get a drink. Hand out a quiz, another child needs to go to the restroom. Dont even ask what happens when you show a video about rivers and streams. The hyperactivity level of kids increases when the sky holds a full moon. The pull of the moons gravity controls the Earths tides. Such lunar moments render kids quite loony. Rain does the same thing to school children, especially to those in Arizona where little moisture ever drops from the clouds. Just the patter of raindrops on the classroom window can distract even the strongest, wisest, best-behaved youngster, lifting him from his seat, spinning him in the air, and filling him with a jolt of energy unlike that from anything served at Starbucks. Rainy day schedule allows you to witness these out-of-body experiences for a full seven hours. Just you and thirty-something children. I managed to keep the bubbling energy subdued and channeled for much of the day. But by the last half-hour, I was pretty much wiped-out. I declared the rest of the day silent, with silent reading being the main staple for my sanity. Some teachers call it DEAR time (Drop Everything and Read). I call it S QUIRT (Super Quiet Uninterrupted Reading Time). Ty is an intelligent boy who loves to read. He sneaks his novel under his desk during math time. He slips his novel in his notebook when we are reviewing multisyllabic words and VCV patterns. Whenever I confiscate his literary distractions, he produces yet another volume from his backpack. Of all the kids, I think to myself, Ty should love this gift of time to jump into a book. I look up from my desk, however, to see the boy waving his hand frantically. Yes, Ty, I say letting out a weary sigh. What do you need? Can I go to the restroom? I refrain from responding with my worn-out retort, I dont know. Can you? Dont you mean, May I? Sure, I mumble instead. Ty leaped out of his seat and hustled to the restroom. The rest of you, I bellow, get back to reading. The restroom is a mere fifty feet away from my classroom. Most personal business including travel time, I figure, shouldnt take more than five to ten minutes. So when twenty minutes had passed for this child, I became a bit suspicious. I rose from my desk and poked my head outside, all the while composing in my head the reprimand I would deliver to the tardy Ty. The rain was still falling - lightly now - and ominous clouds in the west promised more precipitation throughout the afternoon and early evening. A cool breeze soared past me and into my warm stuffy room of readers. But Ty was nowhere in sight. Then, from around the corner of the building, I saw the young man slowly making his way back to class. He was in no hurry to escape the rain as were other escapees from other fifth grade classrooms. He was skating. I watched as he pushed first his right foot over the watery sidewalk to the right. Then he pushed his left foot to the left. Right, left. Right, left. Slowly he inched closer and closer to the classroom, oblivious to the fact that his teacher was watching his graceful approach. Right, left. Right, left. A few feet from the classroom door, he looked up and then smiled sheepishly at me. I smiled back and held the door for him. His face turned red as he entered the room. I no longer remembered the frustrated reprimand I had prepared. Instead, I exclaimed, That looked like fun. I sent him to his seat and waited for him to open his novel. Then I quickly stepped outside, took a deep breath and allowed a bit of rain to fall upon my head. Copyright, Tim Ramsey, 2013.
Posted on: Mon, 25 Nov 2013 00:05:25 +0000
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